


We'll Make It Another Night

by ethereal_inkwell



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Requited Love, Smut, Wing Kink, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 08:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20094124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereal_inkwell/pseuds/ethereal_inkwell
Summary: Crowley feels like he doesn't deserve love, Aziraphale disagrees. Just reference the tags.Title is from Devil Town by Cavetown





	We'll Make It Another Night

**Author's Note:**

> Never written fanfiction before, also a huge lesbian - let's jump right in with some angsty gay smut because that's a good decision I think? I pulled an all nighter to write this trash.

Crowley and Aziraphale barely spoken since they had freed themselves from their ties to heaven and hell. Of course they had celebrated after, and of course they had loved that little taste of independence, but it couldn’t last. Like Aziraphale had said, deep down they were indeed created to oppose each other. Why, then, did Crowley feel such pull towards the damned angel?

Without any real purpose, he hopped in the Bentley. He hit the throttle, racing through the streets of London, tires screeching as he narrowly avoided hitting multiple pedestrians. Before he could even register his destination, he was in front of his angel’s bookshop. His angel. A stupid nickname. Aziraphale clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

Fuck it. He at least wanted a last glimpse of the damned principality. He promised himself it would be the last time. Aziraphale was too good, too gentle for him. He could still be forgiven, Crowley couldn’t. Maybe heaven would go back on their decision and his angel could live peacefully without him.

Even still, he felt an almost magnetic pull to the small, cozy shop where he had experienced the majority of his happy memories for at least the past three centuries. He exhaled sharply, trying a little too hard to ignore the thought that it wasn’t actually the shop that held so many memories, but its owner.

Although he had become reasonably good at resisting temptation throughout the centuries, at least enough to stay out of too much trouble and avoid discorporation, he knew that attempting it now was futile. Pushing his glasses up further on his face, he strolled into the bookstore with as much casual swagger as he could muster.

Aziraphale was reading a yellowed book on a couch in the back room, but glanced up and beamed as soon as Crowley entered.

“Look Angel, I-“

“Oh come on my dear, sit down, where ever have you been?”

Crowley lost any resolve to end things that he may have started out with. His angel was too happy. Why? Everything had been Crowley’s fault after all. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven, not by hell and not by Aziraphale. He was useless, only good for tempting the pure and good to sin and damnation. And that was just what he’d done to his Angel. It didn’t matter how Crowley felt, his simple act of being lead to destruction.

“You got anything to drink?” he asked. Old habits he supposed. He couldn’t stop to consider any other meaning behind this impulse to stay a little longer.

Once they were about six glasses in, both of them were rather tipsy, but couldn’t be accurately described as drunk. After all, a few centuries of excessive alcohol consumption does tend to build your tolerance.

Crowley was spread out on the floor, staring up at the thousands of books filling every corner of the building.

“Why don’t you hate me?” The question slipped out against his better senses.

“Crowley, dear!” the angel exclaimed, setting down his glass rather indignantly. “I could never hate you.”

“You’re an angel, of course you’d be nice even when I… well, I act like a _fucking_ demon,” he muttered, pulling off his glasses to reveal striking golden snake eyes.

Aziraphale smiled sadly, and reached his hand out to grasp Crowley’s. Crowley flinched away from Aziraphale’s warm touch, pushing down his desire to cling to it instead.

“What ever is the problem, Crowley?”

“I- I shouldn’t be here. You were right, we shouldn’t ‘fraternize’.”

“That was before, and I never truly thought that!” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed and he leaned towards Crowley.

Crowley flinched away and hissed, “Well it must have held some truth. What, afraid of falling?”

“I mean… no. Angels don’t _get_ to fall anymore, upstairs just destroys anyone that goes against the Great Plan.”

Understanding flashed across Crowley’s face. Aziraphale wasn’t given a trial, but he had assumed it was an exception, fulfillment of a personal vendetta, certainly not just the standard treatment.

Crowley bit his lip sharply. “Look Angel, I honestly didn’t know. It’s fine though, I get it, I’m the reason you’re in any danger. I should go.”

“I _never _said anything of the sort.”

“It’s better for the both of us, I’m sorry…”

Crowley stood up, shoving his glasses back on his face and making a beeline for the door. He was done. He couldn’t take it anymore, this holy being pretending that he _cared_, that he was really willing to risk it all, even if Crowley would have gladly offered the same.

“Crowley, wait!” Aziraphale rushed towards him with an urgency that the demon had never seen before, even as the world was ending.

Shocked that the angel would ever act in this way, he hesitated for long enough for Aziraphale to grab his collar. He gently but firmly held Crowley in place, his kind, soft face filled with urgency.

“We don’t have to worry about them anymore. You’re- you’re my best friend, we have the Arrangement.”

Crowley couldn’t (or at least wouldn’t) explain the deep, sinking feeling in his chest as Aziraphale said “friend”, but it even further intensified his need to _get out_.

“I can’t do this. I- I can’t. Goodbye, Angel.”

Crowley shoved Aziraphale back and twisted sharply to get out of his grip, thankful that his glasses against his face hid his misty eyes. He needed to escape, get absolutely hammered, and sleep for at least a century. There was only one thing preventing him from doing just that.

Demons could sense despair and grief just as their angelic counterparts could sense the opposite. In his 6000 years on the planet, Crowley had never felt misery stronger than that which was radiating off of Aziraphale. Shit.

The principality looked at him with soul-splitting sorrow in his eyes. Crowley backed towards the door, his resolve quickly faltering. He could run, could hide, could move to another planet. But he _couldn’t_. Not without his angel.

“Why?” A single word escaped the angel’s lips.

Crowley took a shaky breath and tried to maintain his composure. “I’m not good for you. I- I screwed everything up. Sure, it was fine in the end, but it was _me_ who dragged you into it and _me_ who stuck you on ‘our’ side and _me_ who put you in real danger on annihilation and-“

Aziraphale took a step forward and placed a finger over the demon’s lips. He could feel Crowley’s harsh, erratic breathing and ached to comfort him.

“Shhh… it’s okay, come sit back down.”

Aziraphale gently wrapped his arm around Crowley’s trembling shoulders and led him back to the couch. As they sat down, a lone tear cut a course across the demon’s angular face. The principality lifted his thumb to gently wipe it away, lingering hesitantly at the frame of his sunglasses.

Crowley nodded slightly and the angel gently lifted them off his face, placing them on the coffee table and revealing red-rimmed, watery yellow eyes.

“Oh, Crowley dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You can’t really believe all of that?”

The demon nodded again and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle, warm hug. Despite his distress, Crowley felt a fluttering in his stomach and warmth flooded his body even at the light touch. He melted into the angel, pressing his forehead into Aziraphale’s soft shoulder and leaving wet tear marks on his tan coat. The angel ran his hand in slow circles over Crowley’s back as the demon breathed in raggedly.

“How can I help, my dear boy?”

“I just… why do you care? You _shouldn’t_ care.”

Aziraphale drew back like he had been punched. “Crowley, you’re beautiful and good and so, so worthy. Please don’t even imagine anything else.”

Crowley allowed hope to spark deep in his chest, just for a second. Then he came to his senses. He was a demon, Aziraphale was an angel — it was basically his job description to love all beings. He wasn’t anything more special than a _cockroach_ to Aziraphale. He couldn’t be.

The demon scoffed harshly, quickly masking his second of vulnerability. “If only that were true.”

“Crowley, I- I love you,” Aziraphale stammered.

The spark of hope in Crowley’s chest grew to an inferno, but he didn’t — couldn’t — trust it. He pulled back from Aziraphale’s embrace.

“Don’t lie. Please don’t.”

He lacked any conviction behind the words, but they still hit their target. Aziraphale reached back out and grabbed his wrists, staring into Crowley’s frightened gaze.

“I’ve loved you for centuries. I understand if you don’t reciprocate my feelings, but I need you here. What’s the point of stopping Armageddon if I don’t get to spend the rest of time with you?” He let out a soft, sad chuckle.

Crowley took in a deep breath and exhaled roughly.

“I love you too, angel.”

“I- may I?” Aziraphale asked shyly, bringing his hand up to lightly graze the demon’s lips.

Crowley responded by abandoning his inhibitions and wrapping his angel in a tight, longing embrace. He brought his hand up to gently cup the back of Aziraphale’s head as their lips met. They shared a light, chaste kiss, then passionately pushed their lips back together, gasping and clinging tightly to each other.

The demon’s forked tongue slipped smoothly into Aziraphale’s mouth, gentle as first, then messier, more desperate, trying to express 6,000 years worth of emotion in one kiss. They explored each others’ mouths with intent. Crowley moaned as the kiss grew deeper, and quickly pulled away from the angel, fearing that it would be too much and that a wrong move could scare him off.

“Too fast?”

“Not fast enough,” the angel murmured.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley back in, wrapping his hands around the demon’s wrists and insistently pushing against his mouth, pinning him against the back of the couch and leaning over him, his legs between the demon’s thighs. The demon felt his cock growing hard, becoming uncomfortably tight in his already restricting pants. He gasped loudly and bucked upwards as Aziraphale’s thigh grazed him through his jeans.

The angel quickly got the hint, smoothly sliding off Crowley’s jacket and running his hands over Crowley’s body through his tight black button-up.

After the second it took to fully grasp the direction the night was going in, Crowley only managed to get out the word “bed,” before snapping. The two materialized on Aziraphale’s slightly dusty bed, covered in a tartan comforter and a staggering number of pillows.

Aziraphale took it in stride, slowly unbuttoning Crowley’s shirt and peppering little kisses over the newly exposed skin. Crowley gasped at each kiss, almost overwhelmed by the gentleness and care that his angel was taking with him. He took one of the demon’s nipples into his mouth, circling the hard bump with his tongue and eliciting a low, rumbling moan.

Crowley looked up and pushed the angel back, insisting “Now you’re overdressed!”

Crowley cursed how many layers Aziraphale wore as he pulled off his pristine vintage jacket. He pulled the principality down into a passionate kiss as his nimble fingers quickly worked at the buttons on the angel’s vest. He desperately pulled off the angel’s bow tie, and, after a second of hesitation, miracled away the rest of their clothes.

Aziraphale gasped at the sudden exposure but continued to press his lips hungrily against Crowley’s before moving down to sprinkle kisses and love marks across the demon’s sharp, angular form. Crowley’s hips thrust as the principality’s mouth traveled down to his weeping cock.

Aziraphale ran his tongue up the demon’s shaft, making him shiver and moan.

Threading his fingers through the angel’s soft curls, he moaned, “Wings, angel. Can I see them?”

The angel summoned his wings just as he circled his mouth around the head of Crowley’s cock, evoking a loud cry of pleasure from the demon as he licked across the slit on the tip of his shaft. All Crowley could see was pearlescent white feathers stretching upwards, creating a halo around Aziraphale as he sent shocks of pleasure coursing through the demon’s shaking body. It felt like he was back in heaven, only better.

“Yours too, my dear boy?” the angel softly requested, popping his mouth off of Crowley and immediately replacing it.

Crowley manifested his wings, which unfurled flat on the bed, oil-slick black feathers contrasting with pure white ones. The demon reached down into Aziraphale’s scapulars right as the angel took him deep inside his mouth. Aziraphale moaned loudly, sending stirring vibrations into Crowley’s erect cock.

Aziraphale had already willed away his gag reflex. His head bobbed up and down rapidly on Crowley’s shaft even as the demon explored his wings. Crowley’s mouth was open in silent ecstasy, and he was breathing hard. Aziraphale moaned again after the demon hit a particularly sensitive spot, making him tremble and grown loudly.

“W-wait ‘Zira. Stop.”

Aziraphale immediately pulled his mouth off of Crowley, and stared up at him in concern.

“What is it dear? Did I do something wrong?” he panted.

“I want- no, I need you inside of me, angel.”

Aziraphale’s boner was aching for release, but he first miracled a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and cock. He slid his index finger slowly into Crowley, then let another join it, slowly pushing in and out as the demon gasped and dug his fingers into the exact point that the angel’s wings joined his body. Aziraphale felt his mouth fall open at the euphoric sensation of Crowley’s hands in the most sensitive part of his wings.

“Please — now,” panted Crowley.

Aziraphale slowly pushed his aching cock into the demon, hitting his prostate and eliciting an intoxicated moan from him. The angel sped up, already on the edge of coming by virtue of his overly-sensitive wings. He pushed his fingers into Crowley’s downy feathers, running circles over the sensitive skin under the feathers as he pounded into the demon. As Crowley started to tremble with pleasure, Aziraphale removed one of his hands from the demon’s wings and moved it to stroke his cock, already glistening with precum. The stimulation was too intense for the demon to last much longer.

“Fuck Angel, I’m—“

Crowley came hard, his opening squeezing tightly around Aziraphale and making him come with a shudder. The angel rolled over to his side, still inside of Crowley, before slowly pulling out. The two held each other close, the sticky feel of sweat and come on their skin. Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s forehead, then waved his hand, immediately vanishing the mess between them.

They shared a last lingering kiss as they held each other tight, their wings intertwining. They didn’t have to move, not yet. After all, they had all of the time in the world to spare.


End file.
